


This is Gallifrey: Our Childhood. Our Home

by Sheysira



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post Episode: s04e17-e18 The End of Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheysira/pseuds/Sheysira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-End of Time, the Doctor and The Master find ways to mend each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Gallifrey: Our Childhood. Our Home

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read both as Gen or Slash according to the reader's preferences. The illustrations are meant to be this small, I drew them that size.

The Master hadn’t been the same since he had escaped the Time Lock. The Doctor had found him a wreck, an injured fugitive. Of course, he had nursed him back to health. At first he had believed the Master’s silence was just a side effect of his bad shape. Eventually, when the Master’s physical condition was getting more and more stable again, he had to acknowledge that it was more of a mental matter. He wasn’t sure if it was shock, depression or a permanent after effect of the drums. All options were possible, considering all the evident abuse the Master seemed to have suffered during his time within the Time Lock as well as a millenium of exposure to the drums, the signal the High Council had burdened the other Time Lord with so very long ago.

The Master had recovered to a point where he could do all necessary tasks like eating, changing clothes or walking around the TARDIS on his own. Only he would not. The Doctor filled his days with treating him practically like a doll, dressing, washing, and walking him for exercise, even trying to feed him until the Master had had enough and took the spoon from him, to eat just enough so the Doctor would stop bothering him. He wouldn’t speak either. All he did was sit there and stare into space or sleep. 

He had never seen a Time Lord sleep this much. He knew for a fact that there was no physical reason for this, so he was pretty sure it was a form of escape. If he slept he didn’t have to think. A way of finding peace. Until the nightmares came. It wasn’t every time that the Master curled up and went to sleep, but with a reliable regularity he would start mumbling in his sleep, sounding increasingly distressed until he would wake up with a start or in tears.

The Doctor was pretty sure it wasn’t the drums. The signal had fulfilled its purpose, so it must have stopped. Gallifrey had been drawn through the Time Lock, brief as it was, before it was thrown back. A phone didn’t keep ringing after a call had been received. The signal had stopped, the drums were gone. 

But this scared the Doctor more than anything. What kind of trauma could have reduced the Master to this state? He wasn’t able to understand exactly what the Master said in his sleep and he was afraid to find out. For that same reason he hadn’t tried to snoop around in the other’s mind either. He was aware that he was acting cowardly, because he was scared his fears might be true. But he just didn’t have the strength to act responsibly. To have even the slightest chance of fixing whatever the problem was, he would need to know what he was dealing with. So instead of properly diagnosing the Master’s mind, the Doctor did what he was best at. He talked. He kept talking to the unresponsive Master who didn’t fight anything that was done to him. Passively he complied when the Doctor put him through the ever repetitive routine of everyday life. The Doctor filled the silence with tales from a thousand years worth of life, every bit of trivial trivia he could think of and what felt like a billion anecdotes about people the Master had never even met. The truth was, it was more for his own benefit than the Master’s for whom it didn’t seem to make any difference whatsoever.

Then, one day, he was talking about Earth again. He was in the middle of a rant about one of the many inane wars in the planet’s history when suddenly the Master said something. It took a moment before it registered in the Doctor’s mind and he stopped mid sentence when it did. He stared at the Master who was still gazing blankly at the same unidentifiable point ahead of him. But he was certain he had heard right.

“Why Earth?” the Master had asked quietly, voice rough from lack of use.

The Doctor made an effort not to drown the Master in questions of his own and contemplated how to answer this. The question could be taken in several ways and there were a lot of possible answers that were all true. Did he even know the easiest answer? He decided to be at least a little brave and face this relatively safe truth for once. As soon as he admitted it to himself, he told the Master.

“Because it reminds me of home,” he said softly. He was torn between surprise and joy when the Master scoffed.

“How?” the other Time Lord rasped. He managed to say it in a way that conveyed exactly how he felt about the idea. _How could Earth ever compare?_

The Doctor had no words for a sufficient answer. Because it simply did not compare. Not really. But sometimes, very rarely, it was just close enough to spark a tiny flame of comfort that would soon enough be extinguished again. But there were those brief moments of something akin to feeling at home. There was no way he could describe it to the Master.

Instead he held his hand out for the Master to take, as opposed to just taking his and gently tugging him along, like he always did when he needed him to walk somewhere. As expected, the Master didn’t move a muscle, still not looking at him, like he never even said those few words a moment ago.

“I’ll show you,” the Doctor said carefully but determined. If the Master showed interest, he _would_ pursue this. Something in the Doctor’s voice must have triggered something in the Master, because he closed his eyes for a moment and then turned his head to take the Doctor in. He glanced at him blankly but steadily. Then he slowly lifted his hand and grasped the Doctor’s, whose hearts were starting to race. This was good, right? It must be good, it just had to.

He took a step back and, as usual, the Master rose to his feet and followed his lead. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, so he refrained from overwhelming him with a lot of chatter and laying the pressure of an actual conversation on him. Baby steps.

He led them to the console room where he gave in some coordinates for a destination on Earth at a certain time of day. It was a precise destination and he took great care of getting it just right for once. During all this he never let go of the Master’s hand, who passively trotted along like a tranquilised toddler.

When they materialised, the Doctor hesitated a moment to eye him carefully, scanning for any changes. It was as if nothing unusual had occurred. The Master was as spaced out as ever, shut down in his own world, however that might look. At least, he had a pretty good idea what the world outside the TARDIS looked like and that was why they were there.

He squared his shoulders and made for the door, the Master in tow. Before he opened it though, he panicked a little and tried to show something that must have looked in between an encouraging smile and a gleeful grin. “Let’s go.” He wasn’t even sure from whom he was trying to hide the nervousness. He wanted this to work. Desperately. The Master had been as close to him as never before and yet so utterly withdrawn. It left him even more lonely than usual. He’d even caught himself wishing the drums back. Any kind of behaviour was preferable to this apathy. Almost. No, the drums should stay gone forever. Apart from the extremes they pushed the Master to, they had also been torture for him. There must be a healthier way to coax the Master out of his shell. 

He tried not to look crestfallen when he received the usual blank reaction to his encouragement and opened the door. The sight that was revealed to them caused him to break into a sincere smile, even if it was a tad bitter-sweet. After a moment he stepped onto the wrong-coloured grass. Green. They had materialised on a wide pasture sprawling out far around them. It was winter, so the grass didn’t look as fresh as in spring.

With the Master following behind, he walked a few paces and stopped. Just as planned they had arrived at dawn. Far ahead of them, sitting just above the snow covered mountains, was the lonely, singular sun of Earth. Its light bathed the horizon and tinged the sky with pale orange. The mountains where shimmering in the soft morning glow. And if one tried really, really hard, it did, indeed, sort of resemble the place of their childhood. One just had to make an effort and then it was all there. Surely the Master would notice it, too?

He dared to sneak a glance. At first he was disappointed, as the Master’s face was still blank, unchanged and void of any response. But then he slowly closed his eyes again and rolled his head on his shoulders. The Doctor didn’t dare to move a muscle as the Master opened his eyes and squinted at the sun above the mountains. He thought he could actually see the intelligence slip back into those light brown eyes, when they started to dart over their surroundings. The Doctor exhaled relieved, barely noticing that he had held his breath and watched the Master turn his head this way and that, curiously stopping here and there to take in some detail. He was actually _there_ , in the moment with the Doctor who had never let go of his hand.

“Do you see?” the Doctor asked softly. He wanted nothing more than to keep the other Time Lord with him in the real world. If only he could do this, things would be alright somehow. His mind was frantically trying to find a solution. He was startled when the Master turned his head and looked him square in the eyes.

“If this reminds you of home, you must have forgotten too much,” he put out calmly. He didn’t avoid the Doctor’s eyes now and it threw him off for a moment.

“Well, you know...I mean...yeah, there is only one sun and the grass is all wrong, but just look at the sky at this time of day! And the mountains!”

The Master did not look at the sky, but kept his eyes fixed on the Doctor. “I forgot a lot too. When I don’t actively evoke certain memories, all I see in my mind when thinking about Gallifrey is fire and death.”

Now it was the Doctor’s turn to avoid the other’s eyes. His head snapped to the side and he stared at the ground. He would have dropped the Master’s hand like it burned him, too, had the Master not tightened his grip just in time with surprising force. Now he felt his curious glance on him while he tried to control his breathing. He just had to go straight there, hadn’t he? Right where it hurt the most. It wasn’t just the guilt of what he had done to his own world and people. It tainted everything, all the fond memories of what he had held dear. Because that everything, in essence, was Gallifrey to him and Gallifrey burned. He dealt with it by suppressing the memories, running like he always did. What he hadn’t known was that he had gotten the Master in the exact same position. Too ashamed to look him in the eye, an oncoming wave of nausea got cut off just in time by a sharp tug on his hand.

“Hey, don’t!” the Master ordered. His voice had gained strength since the first whisper not too long ago. “I won’t allow it. You don’t get to use me for your personal guilt trip. I don’t have a reason to mourn them anymore after what they did. The bad memories have nothing to do with you. They doomed Gallifrey, you only saved the rest of the universe from their idiocy before it could spread even more. I ran to the end of the universe to escape it! Yes, I blamed you and used it as an excuse to hurt you in the past, but we both know I would have found another reason to do so. It is not your fault that our home is gone, do you get that?”

The Doctor still couldn’t bear to look at him, but he didn’t try to let go of him either. “I thought of this place as a safe haven. At least for the few minutes the light has just the right colour,” he admitted and finally looked at him. The light was changing as they spoke. “Don’t you think it looks a lot like the fields we used to play in?” he asked with a sad smile.

The Master didn’t say anything for a moment. His face was so different from the blank mask the Doctor had seen for so long. Now he could see the mind working behind lively eyes, the tiniest twitches giving away emotions running through the other Time Lord that the Doctor couldn’t even guess at. He still didn’t know what to expect from him. He was only sure that the other was battling with himself, yet he didn’t know what for.

“It is about as much like Gallifrey as a human is like a Timelord,” he finally offered, apparently having come to a decision. “Superficially it is similar, yes. At first glance. But if you look deeper... if you… if you allow yourself to _feel it_ , it is nothing but a pale copy.” At this the Master squeezed his hand tightly, making the Doctor feel him, even though he was aware that he’d been talking about mental contact, feeling one another as only Time Lords could. 

“It has been too long for you remember what it was truly like, hasn’t it, Doctor?”

It wasn’t fair. The Doctor knew the Master well enough to realise that he was using a double meaning on purpose, leaving open whether he was talking of seeing Gallifrey or feeling other Time Lords. Which left the Doctor with the decision of which of the two topics to pick up from there. Unless, he ignored them altogether. He was too desperate for the Master to talk to him to go the safest route. 

“When I think of it, destruction comes to mind. I spent so much time burying the bad memories, all the fire and debris and death so deep in my mind… that I can’t seem to reach the good parts anymore. What happened before all of that. Even before I first left. It’s like I know the right number of suns, the proper colours of the sky, the grass, the trees. Oh, the trees. It’s like I _know_ there’s nothing like them anywhere else in the universe that I know of, but I just can’t picture them anymore without feeling like I’m _there_ again. Right between all the fire and violence and it ultimately always leads to the worst moments when I...when I...” He just couldn’t say it.

The Master nodded, “I know that feeling. It’s much the same for me. But...You see, I have locked certain things away, certain wonderful things, a very long time ago. At the time, I just didn’t want to remember. Us running over red grass, lying in the shadows when both suns stood high. Looking up at silver leaves. You know the kind of memories we made seeing these things. My bitterness once made me push these away, as far as I could. I buried them deep enough that the horrors of the last years on Gallifrey never reached them.”

The Doctor wondered if the Master’s eyes were truly watering up or whether he was mistaken. He just wasn’t sure of anything anymore. This man was different. Very different from what he knew. He wasn’t his childhood-friend anymore, but neither the driven maniac he had turned into further down the road. Maybe he himself was just too unstable to make any sense of him. He didn’t know how to respond to what he had just been told and so he kept silent.

“I’m sorry. I never really thanked you for what you did for me the last few months. I do appreciate it. After everything that happened, you really didn’t have any obligations to do so when you found me. You could have let me die or put me out of my misery. And I never showed any gratitude. I had withdrawn into myself. That’s what I did before I managed to get out. It was easier to survive that way. Especially for a coward,” he laughed bitterly.

“I’m so sorry-“ the Doctor started, but the Master cut him off.

“I had a lot of time to think about things. And a lot of that time I needed some sort of comfort. I didn’t expect to have much of a future. So in my desperation, for lack of hope, I turned to the past. I wallowed in my kinder memories. They are sparse, so eventually I ended up finding the ones I locked away so well. And eventually, when they weren’t enough anymore, I found a way to refine them. I occasionally brushed the minds of other Time Lords around me. Just lightly enough so they wouldn’t notice me. You know I am good at this sort of thing. So I took little things that I found in their minds. Like the impression of an especially shiny leaf, the light of an extraordinarily beautiful dawn, the reflection of freshly fallen snow on a mountain top. I took all of these tiny details and used them to embellish my own memories. Yes, I know it does not make for realism, don’t give me that look. But it helped me cope.”

The Doctor was still staring openly at him with a bewildered frown. “You really are brilliant,” he pointed out.

The Master shook his head. “No...I would have done a lot of things in my life differently, if I was. But what I was actually trying to tell you is that I needed time. I know you understand the drums are no longer there,” he pointed at his temple. “It had been bearable on Gallifrey behind the Time Lock, because everyone was constantly screaming...mentally. There was mental white noise everywhere. But when I escaped and left them behind...The silence was overwhelming and my mind filled it with more recent memories. A lot of them part of the trauma. I had no chance to bury _anything at all_. So I turned again to my most precious memories. But just delving into them didn’t distract me enough from the horrors. Not anymore. Just immersing myself in a shiny fake world was not enough. So, still unable to function efficiently, I put myself to work. I busied myself to stop the flood of horrors that my own mind assaulted me with. So I concentrated on playing with the good memories again. I dismantled the illusions and removed layer after pretty layer, until I was as close to the truth as possible once more. To me, it doesn’t feel like so long ago anymore, because I’ve invested so much time recently thinking about it all. I now have what I think is a rather accurate version of it in my head. This is the reason that I find this,” he gestures at the hills under the now blue sky, “a poor substitute.”

The Doctor had listened to all this with mixed feelings. So much pain, but there was also beauty in his tale. He was yet again at a loss for words.

“I wasn’t able to communicate any of this before. It took all my attention and strength not to completely lose what was left of my mind at the time. I still don’t know if I have worked myself completely out of the crisis, or even who I am. It will probably take a lot of more time, but I was ready to finally reach out to you. I want to make up for a lot of things to you. I kept a grudge for so long. It ended up hurting us both.”

He pulled the Doctor closer to him by the hand he had never let go of and cupped the side of his head with the other, disregarding any personal space the Doctor had thought he had. With only a Time Lord’s heart beat of hesitation – one, two, three, four – he gently brought their foreheads together. The Doctor stiffened for a moment, still remembering the extremely unpleasant experience of hearing the drums the last time they did this. He felt the presence of the Master’s mind, more controlled than last time, gentle but urgently pressing against his and demanding entry. The last time had been a right mess with the Master so beside himself, tormented by the drums to the point of incoherency and a horrible hunger due to the botched resurrection.

This time was very different. And he was curious. He still feared what he would find in the Master’s head, but the other had just proved he was in control of his own thoughts. Surely it couldn’t be that bad. There was still the danger that this was all a trick, but he found himself beyond caring. He wanted him back. He was willing to give in to the fantasy. He was willing to bleed for it, if that was what it took. And he was certainly willing to take the risks. He opened his mind.

To his surprise it was not instantly flooded and thoroughly taken over by the Master. There was no submission required of him. Koschei did the mental equivalent of tip toeing to leave as much undisturbed as possible until he found what he needed. It wasn’t easy because Theta had done a great job of getting as far away from them as possible. He found them tangled underneath a lot of trauma and painful memories that were too similar to his own for comfort. Nevertheless he took extra care untangling the good ones and mending the damage caused by all the bad experiences. He used his own guarded memories of Gallifrey, filling gaps with copies of what he remembered of the same moments. It was all there by the time he finished. Now it was up to Theta to access them. He was very grateful that he got the chance and the ability to do this for him and the result pleased him. As a parting gift, Koschei let the Doctor feel some of these positive emotions before he retreated. He opened his eyes to look at his face and tried in vain to withdraw himself. He felt an iron grip on his neck, that pressed his face back into the Doctor’s.

The Doctor used brute force only physically. Telepathically he eased them both right into one of the memories, carefully editing out some details for the moment, like their younger selves. They mentally found themselves in a Gallifreyan landscape. They both recognised it as the very pasture they used to sneak away to on so many occasions. The Doctor was about to experience the memory purely and untainted again since the war trauma had ruined it for him. He wanted to share this with the Master who had gifted him with the possibility.

They were both rendered speechless. The Doctor was overwhelmed by the sight of the crimson grass ruffled by the wind he could actually feel on his skin. The air carried the sweet smell of the silver trees which stood a bit further off. The leaves where sparkling in the light of the two suns. In the distance snow topped mountains rose. The light of dawn slightly tinting the white snow. It was stunningly beautiful.

This was it! This was as close to the real Gallifrey as he was ever likely to get again. Together they had created a pretty damn accurate version of it all. His hearts were full of joy as well as a sweet melancholy, caused by the fact that he would never see this with his real eyes again. But the knowledge that the Master beside him was not just a memory but real kept him grounded and gave him strength. This was a good thing and he made sure to channel the happiness and the love he felt for the Master for granting him this opportunity and projected it at him. He deserved a good share of the bliss and he should have it.

The Master was overwhelmed by the Doctor’s gratification. He hadn’t expected any positive feelings towards himself from the Doctor. It was too much. His mental presentation sank to the ground first, but it was swiftly mirrored by his actions in the real world. He settled cross-legged in the tall red grass that spread far in all directions around them. He felt the Doctor’s hand on his shoulder, and the gesture was much appreciated. Basking in their shared emotions, they both looked at the scene for what felt like a very long time, even though it was only minutes in real time. Eventually they drew back when they both felt it was enough. They were aware that neither was opposed to a repeat session.

Slowly the Master opened his eyes, glistening with pleasure, complimenting his brilliant smile and looked up. Then he frowned when he saw the Doctor’s tear-streaked face above him.

“What’s...Are you alright?” he asked alarmed. 

The Doctor nodded. “It was all just a bit much, but I’m more than alright. Thank you, so very much for this,” he got out before his voice broke and then fell to his knees beside the Master on the green Earth grass and drew him close again into a tight embrace.


End file.
